Gun Shy
by bionic4ever
Summary: KAL4:Jaime is hospitalized for treatment of PostTraumaticStress after Steve rescues her from the roof of a barn. Will a crisis, nearly identical to her original trauma, give Jaime strength to recover or make her dissolve completely?For Julie,with thanks.
1. Chapter 1

**Gun Shy**

Chapter One

It was exactly eight Jaime-sized paces from one side of the room to the other, and six paces from the window to the door. There were 96 tiles in the ceiling, and 576 on the floor. She told her new doctor those specifics as he made his evening check on her.

"I need to go home," she insisted. "There's nothing left to count."

Doctor Conrad chuckled in spite of himself. "Well," he began gently, "while I appreciate your clinical assessment, I need to know I'll be sending you _home_, and not back up onto the roof of that barn."

Jaime flinched. She didn't remember most of what had happened the night she'd climbed onto that roof, two days earlier. Her mind had somehow believed she was back on the roof of a burning, crumbling outbuilding with Steve, escaping at the end of a mission that had very nearly been disastrous. She'd suffered severe blood loss from a bullet wound in her side, and Steve had been badly beaten; they'd been beyond lucky to both get out alive. Jaime had been an unseen witness to the murder of an OSI secretary, and when she saw Steve's captors leading him to the same execution spot, she'd saved his life at the very last minute, using the only means available: a gun. Jaime, who had always been vehemently anti-gun, had shot four men to death.

Her physical wounds had healed quickly, and although she was unwilling to talk about what had happened, she assured everyone that she was just fine. She had been mistaken; Jaime was anything _but_ alright. While she was in the process of moving in with Steve, she came across _the _gun, hidden out of sight in the back of his closet. This triggered the beginning of what appeared to be a breakdown, where the sight of a gun, even on television, caused her to freeze in place, losing virtually all control of her emotions.

It had broken his stoic heart, but Oscar had no choice; he reluctantly suspended Jaime from the OSI until she agreed to accept treatment. She grudgingly attended one session with a new therapist, Mark Conrad, who gave what was happening to her a new name: Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. Jaime continued to insist she was ok, even when she began experiencing horrific nightmares, but after the incident on the barn roof, where she'd been teetering dangerously without any awareness of where she was or what was happening, no one could ignore it any longer. Jaime needed immediate help, and now, she knew it, too.

"I miss Steve," Jaime told the doctor.

"You'll see him soon – another day or two. We need _your own_ memories of what happened to come to the surface, and Steve's being here could inadvertently hold you back, make you too afraid to remember, or trigger things you aren't ready to deal with yet."

"I haven't had any more of those dreams since I got here," she said tentatively. "That's progress..."

"True," Conrad agreed, "but you've been sleeping under sedation, and your memories of the incident haven't been re-triggered. Tomorrow, we'll begin desensitization, and that should give us a more accurate picture of where things stand."

"You mean, whether or not I'm loony-tunes?" Jaime asked, only half joking.

"Jaime, what's been happening to you is a fairly common reaction to severe trauma; it doesn't mean you're crazy."

"_Sane_ people don't hide under tables or balance on the crest of a roof..." she argued sadly. "My brain isn't plugged into reality anymore, if I can't control my own actions."

Conrad patted her hand and smiled reassuringly. "You're a lot more plugged in than you realize. I want you to rest as much as possible tonight, and I'll see you in the morning, ok?"

Jaime nodded, and stretched out on her bed, feeling not in the least bit reassured.

- - - - - -

When Doctor Conrad re-joined his patient the next morning, he found her ignoring her untouched breakfast tray as she battled a rather bad case of nerves.

"I'm ready," Jaime told him with only a slight tremor in her voice. "Let's do it."

Conrad set a small box on the table by the door, and extended a manila folder to Jaime. "I want you to look at these pictures – take your time."

Jaime opened the folder slowly, and took a deep, steadying breath. Inside were a group of photos, all 8 X 10s, of six different pistols and revolvers. Determined to get through it, she looked at each one and forced herself not to cry. When she'd seen them all, she looked back at the doctor.

"Do any of them resemble the gun you used that day in the compound?" Conrad asked gently.

Jaime leafed through them all again before extracting a picture and pulling it out with shaking hands. Conrad took the folder, leaving the single picture in front of her on the bed.

"Good. Jaime, how do you feel when you look at that?"

"I...don't like it."

"Physically, what do you feel?"

"My stomach's sort of queasy, and I wanna cry...but I'm not going to," she told him.

"It's ok to cry, if you need to; it's a perfectly normal outlet for pain."

Jaime nodded, but stubbornly refused to let the tears fall. "What I'd really like...is to tear it into tiny pieces, or crumple it up and throw it away. But...Steve threw the real gun away – he crushed it – and that didn't help."

"That's right. Very good." Conrad reached out and took the picture away. "Would you like to stop, for now?"

"No. I...I'm ok."

The doctor retrieved the box from the table. "Jaime, when I give you this box, I want you to open it and look inside, but don't touch or remove the object."

"Alright," she said, fairly certain she knew what it held. She was right; inside was an exact duplicate of the gun she'd used to defend Steve and herself – the gun that, in her hands, had taken four lives. Jaime squeezed her eyes shut, but could no longer hold back the tears that began to stream silently down her cheeks. Mark Conrad watched her closely. She immediately re-opened her eyes. "That...didn't help," she told him.

"What did you see, when your eyes were closed?"

The stream of tears became torrential as pain flooded Jaime's soul. "I saw...it was...I can't do this!" She reached out and pushed the box off the bed, onto the floor.

- - - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Jaime, remember the exercises we worked on yesterday. Breathe through it," Doctor Conrad told her softly, trying to soothe her before full panic seized her. Jaime dutifully complied, leaning back on her pillows and breathing in and out, slowly and very deeply, until the tears began to subside. "That's excellent," Conrad affirmed. "Now, when you closed your eyes, what did you see?"

"I don't know; it was too quick. I...didn't wanna look.." Jaime sighed, discouraged. "But..." she took another breath, "I'm gonna try again. I...I _want _to try again."

Wordlessly, the doctor retrieved the box from the floor. Instead of taking the whole thing from his hands, Jaime reached inside and picked up the gun, then sat and stared at it silently.

"It isn't loaded," Conrad told her. "You're perfectly safe."

The gun felt white-hot in the palms of her hands. Very gradually, she closed her right hand around the grip as she stared, mesmerized, at the weapon. "I'm glad I didn't eat today," she whispered.

"When you're ready," the doctor began, "I want you to close your eyes." A few minutes later, when Jaime had re-gathered her courage, she did as requested. "What do you see? Try to keep your eyes closed, and remember that you're only observing now. Nothing you're seeing can hurt you."

It was several more minutes before she could answer. Images flashed in her mind, each more gruesome and frightening than the one before, swirling with overwhelming speed and intensity, trying to suck her in and make her once again a part of the horror. Jaime fought back as best she could, hearing Conrad's voice reminding her that she was only observing.

"I tripped an alarm, getting in, and I got shot. It – it wouldn't stop bleeding...and it _hurt_! I felt so dizzy...just...I just wanted to sleep, but they were looking for me. Had to hide. There's blood everywhere..." she said in a barely audible voice. "That woman...they..._killed_ her! So much blood...and I can't find Steve."

Doctor Conrad watched his patient closely, ready to pull her back at any second, if it got to be too much for her mind or body to handle. Jaime was shaking, but her eyes were dry, and she kept them closed as she recounted the scene.

"Jaime, where were you when you first saw Steve?"

"I was in the middle of the compound...out in the open. He distracted the guards, so they wouldn't see me, and I...I hid. They took him away, but he left his backpack, and I opened it. I drank a little water, and then...I...I found...**it**."

"What did you find?"

"Steve's gun. It...was loaded."

"Had you ever fired a gun before?"

"Yeah. Steve showed me how, so I could defend myself if I had to. Had some OSI training, too, but I couldn't...I didn't think I'd be able to shoot anyone...told them they were wasting their time, that I'd probably never be able to..."

"Ok," Conrad said gently. "You took the gun from the backpack, saw it was loaded, and then what happened?"

"The same men...the ones who killed that woman...they've got Steve! He's not fighting them; he's hurt. They put him on the ground...on his knees...NO!" Jaime began to tremble violently, and her eyes snapped open. "He had no way out; I _had_ to do something – I had to save Steve!" She stared at the weapon in her hand, identical to the one she'd fired that night. "There was no other choice," Jaime said, almost trance-like, "I shot them."

- - - - - -

Mark Conrad allowed Jaime to rest for the remainder of the day, since she had progressed far beyond what he'd hoped to accomplish in their first 'real' session. He'd been unsure, at the outset, if she'd get through all of the pictures unscathed in her first attempt, and she'd far surpassed his (and her own) expectations. He checked on her several times throughout the day and into the night, and had the nurses keep a very close watch, as well. Jaime suffered no nightmares or flashbacks that anyone was able to spot, and although she was very quiet and a little bit pale, she stayed 'in the moment' – oriented to her surroundings and seemingly unafraid. They had one more hurdle to cross before she could be released, though, and it was a big one. He'd try to start guiding her through it, first thing in the morning.

- - - - - -

Jaime had a different idea. She, too, was aware that only one more obstacle stood in the way of her recovery, and she sat upright in her bed, late into the night, forcing the final, hardest part of her ordeal from her subconscious into the forefront of her mind. She intended to face it, accept it, and hopefully convince Doctor Conrad to let her go home and recover in the comfort of Steve's arms.

- - - - - -


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jaime had skipped breakfast again, and her doctor found her sitting at the window, staring at her hands and sobbing broken-heartedly. He'd been treating this disorder for over ten years, and he had to admire her courage; he could see without asking her that Jaime was already attempting to scale that last hurdle – on her own. He remained in the doorway to give her some space, and spoke very softly, not wanting to startle her.

"Jaime -?"

Jaime looked up, and although her tears flowed freely, her voice was steady as she uttered the words for the very first time.

"_I killed four people._"

Having uttered the words that made what had happened a reality, Jaime fell eerily silent. Her sobs turned quickly to sniffles and then the tears – and all other traces of emotion – disappeared from her face and she sat staring vacantly out the window. Doctor Conrad saw immediately that she was in trouble. He positioned a chair directly across from her so they could sit face-to-face, and he took both of her hands in his own.

"Jaime?" he prompted, trying unsuccessfully to penetrate her blank stare. He gave her a few moments, and then prodded a bit more. "Where are you right now, Jaime?" She didn't answer, appearing not to realize he'd spoken to her. The doctor was careful to hide his disappointment from his patient, but inwardly, he cursed silently to himself. Jaime had made such outstanding progress the previous day, but had then tried to push herself too hard, on her own. He knew with sinking certainty that, for the time being, he had lost her.

- - - - - -

Steve hadn't seen his fiancée since he'd kissed her at the hospital entrance, the night he'd rescued her from the roof and entrusted her to Mark Conrad's care. In the nearly four days since then, he'd been calling for reports on Jaime's progress many times a day, eager to see her again as soon as her condition and treatment allowed. He'd been buoyed tremendously by the doctor's summation of the previous day, and when he got the call to head for the hospital, his heart sang with joy. Jaime was nearly well again! When he sat down in Conrad's office and saw the grim look on the doctor's face, though, his hope was instantly dashed, replaced by gnawing, aching fear.

"Something's happened," Steve stated quietly, before the doctor could tell him anything.

"Jaime's had a bit of a setback," Mark told him. "Not insurmountable, but -"

"What happened? She did so well yesterday..."

"You and Oscar warned me she had an independent streak, and unfortunately, you were right. She must've decided to push herself a little further, a little harder, all by herself. She hit her main trigger without my being there to guide her, and while Jaime finally acknowledged the end result of the incident at the compound, it was more than she could handle, all at once."

"How bad...?" Steve asked.

"She's virtually catatonic. We have to pull back on the treatment, for now, and just gently guide her back."

"I can do that...I think."

- - - - - -

Steve had been well briefed on Jaime's condition, but was still unprepared for the state he found her in. He'd expected to see her looking quietly out the window or lying in bed and staring at the wall. Jaime _was_ in bed, but while her eyes were wide open, she was staring at nothing. Her tear-less cheeks were very pale, and although she was facing the door, she didn't even blink when Steve walked in.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said, caressing her cheek and leaning closer to give her a soft, tender kiss. He didn't know for sure if Jaime could even hear him, but he sat on the edge of her bed and smiled at her lovingly. "I missed you so much," he whispered. Jaime didn't respond, so Steve continued his lonely monologue. "Mark told me how well you did yesterday; I'm so proud of you. I know how hard this is on you, and I still feel terrible that you're going through so much pain because you cared enough to save me." Steve picked up her limp left hand and rubbed it gently as he kept talking. "I hope that now, you'll let me help to save you. Jaime, I love you more than I could even begin to tell you. We've gotta get you back on your feet, Sweetheart, 'cause we've got a wedding to plan."

Steve kept up a loving patter for the next fifteen minutes, but still failed to draw Jaime into conversation or to even get her to _look_ at him. Doctor Conrad joined him at the bedside, and the two men exchanged a sad, meaningful glance . Steve kissed her one more time, then rose to his feet. "I'll be back in a little while," he told Jaime. "You rest now, ok?" With a heavy heart, he followed the doctor down the hall to his office.

"Anything?" Conrad asked, knowing the answer.

"No – not a word, but I swear that she didn't blink once in that whole twenty minutes. I did learn something, though."

"Oh?"

Steve nodded. "Jaime _is _still in there. When I walked in, it looked like she wasn't focused on anything – like she was staring at nothing at all – but then I looked into her eyes. I've known that lady for almost her entire life, and I wasn't looking at an empty soul. I saw...a very frightened, lost little girl, who can't find her way back home."

- - - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

If Steve was right, and the 'lost little girl' inside her was trying to get home, Jaime herself gave no visible indication. Long after the sun had gone down, she remained in exactly the same position in her bed, still gazing in horror at absolutely nothing. Steve stayed at her bedside, holding her hand, touching her face and trying to gently ease her back to where he waited for her so patiently, but no matter how lovingly his heart reached out for hers, Jaime remained locked in her own internal prison – an indefinite sentence in solitary confinement.

Heavy sedation finally released her to sleep, but Steve refused to leave her side. "If she wakes up in the middle of the night, and she's scared, I'm gonna be here," he insisted.

"She'll be out for at least six hours," Doctor Conrad pointed out, "and probably longer. It wouldn't hurt you to get some sleep, too."

"I'll doze in the chair," Steve said. "Besides -"

Rudy's urgent appearance in the doorway, just hours from midnight, precluded further discussion of sleep. Something was clearly wrong; Steve and Mark both followed the older doctor down the hall to the privacy of Mark's office.

"We've got big trouble," Rudy said as Mark closed the door. No one sat down. "Steve, Oscar needs your help -"

"So does Jaime," Steve argued. "Since when does Oscar send a messenger, instead of picking up the phone so I can tell him no myself?"

"He can't," Rudy answered in a grim, stress-filled voice. "A group of men – we don't know how many – stormed his office, just as he and Callahan were getting ready to call it a night. Steve, Callahan was shot."

"Is she...?"

"She's alive, but she's critical. They've just taken her to surgery."

"And...Oscar?"

"We don't know," Rudy said quietly. "They're holding him in his office; no demands yet, no contact of any kind, with them or with Oscar. Hansen sent up a rescue team, and all three men were lost. SWAT teams have assembled on the roof and are surrounding the building, but -"

"But if they go in," Steve finished for him, "Oscar's coming out in a body bag. I'll go in through the office window; they won't be expecting that. Maybe that'll give me the upper hand." Steve turned to Doctor Conrad. "Hopefully, I'll be back with good news before Jaime wakes up in the morning."

- - - - - -

Mark Conrad had planned to spend the night at the hospital, waking before Jaime's sedative wore off, to see exactly what her condition was at the moment she opened her eyes. Given the situation at OSI Headquarters, Mark knew an alarm clock would no longer be necessary. He'd be wide awake, waiting for a positive response from his patient and a positive word from the man who loved her.

Four hours after Jaime had drifted into her drug-induced sleep, Doctor Conrad returned to her bedside and found her in the throes of a nightmare. The attending nurse had been unable to rouse her, and was on her way to summon the doctor, nearly slamming into him in the hallway.

Jaime thrashed around the bed in apparent panic. Mark leaned in to examine her closely. "She shouldn't be dreaming at all – not with that drug cocktail I gave her."

The doctor was only partially right; Jaime's subconscious had been temporarily freed from flashbacks and nightmares, but it was her strong inner connection to Steve creating pictures in her mind. There was no drug to turn that off.

- - - - - -

_Steve quickly assessed the situation from the building across the street. His eye could make out at least three – possibly four – different figures moving past the window of the office. None of them were Oscar. The big, heavy desk had been moved from its usual spot, perhaps to be used as a barricade against SWAT team fire. Steve couldn't see a large portion of the room, so he assumed Oscar had to be there, or (he couldn't allow himself to think this) on the floor._

_The men moved slowly and deliberately; they were in no hurry, felt no panic. Although they didn't seem to be using them threateningly at the moment, each one of them held a gun..._

"Steve..." Jaime whispered, still sleeping soundly. "They'll shoot him..."

_Steve scaled the side of the building easily, and as he reached the window ledge, he was surprised to find the window had just been opened, the screen removed. They were possibly preparing a preemptive attack on the waiting SWAT personnel – or waiting for Steve. Were they expecting him?_

"No..." Jaime cried out, "it's a trap! They're gonna kill him!" Doctor Conrad was attempting to gently wake her, but the drugs were strong and precluded his efforts.

Rudy joined him, since he'd been forced to leave the area surrounding OSI headquarters in an evacuation. Together, the two doctors still proved unable to free their patient from the clutches of what they were sure was another flashback. Finally, her panic quieted into the steady, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. The two men stepped back from the bed and smiled with relief.

"Let's see if we can get on update," Conrad suggested. "It'd be nice to give her some good news when she wakes up."

- - - - - -

Steve stood, unseen and silent, on the ledge outside the window of the penthouse office. It was too quiet in there, given the extreme nature of the unknown group's actions to this point. The silence was deafening and death-like. One voice finally shattered the quiet: Oscar.

"It won't work," he told them weakly. "You're wasting your time."

"We'll see," another voice, dripping with malice, insisted. "Meanwhile, how about you just shut up?" **Thud**!

Steve had heard enough. He stepped into the office through the open window, and was greeted by a bitter, burning mist sprayed directly into his face, the window ventilating the remaining cloud out of the room. Instead of being dealt a physical blow that he could've fought off, Steve had been blinded and rendered helpless.

- - - - - -

Jaime's eyes snapped open; she was instantly wide awake. With resolution and love that outweighed fear, she got out of bed and headed down the hall toward the exit, missing her doctors by mere minutes. Steve needed her help, and nothing else mattered.

- - - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jaime walked straight up to the front entrance of OSI Headquarters, acting as though she belonged there, and because of her high security clearance, her abilities and her relationship to the hostages, she wasn't stopped or questioned. Her doctors had been unable to reach anyone for an update, and when they'd discovered Jaime was missing, they also got no answer when they called the Emergency Response Team to let them know she might be on her way there. With no other choice, they got into Rudy's car and were presently speeding toward the scene.

Jaime ordered the NSB agents who were guarding the elevators to unlock one for her, and the firm tone of her voice and the look in her eyes convinced them to comply. She rode quickly to the floor below Oscar's office, then walked up the remaining flight of stairs, not wanting the elevator bell to alert them to her presence. She stopped halfway up to the penthouse, standing very still and listening carefully to the sounds and voices she was able to pick up.

"Try that again, Colonel, and you both die," a voice growled angrily. Jaime's heart raced with fear, but also with hope. _They were still alive! _Steve had been overpowered, but he and Oscar were alive. Jaime intended to make sure they stayed that way. With a deep breath, she mounted the rest of the stairs and silently opened the stairwell door to step into the outer office.

The inner office door was closed, and they didn't appear to have noticed her arrival. Jaime had to force back an audible gasp when she saw the blood spatter on the wall behind Callahan's desk and the small pool beneath her chair. The walls were pock-marked by multiple bullet holes throughout the room, and from what she saw on the floor and splattered absolutely everywhere, Jaime knew several people had already died here. Her mind flashed a picture of a small outbuilding, also blood-stained, where Jaime herself had nearly died. She forced the picture (and the panic) away; she didn't have time for anything but the present.

"Where the hell is Rudy Wells?" she heard one of them grumble. "You should've grabbed him when he was up here before, genius. If these two are telling the truth and the girl really _is_ in the hospital, we _have_ to get Wells up here. If we set off that bomb with only half the goal accomplished, we may as well stay here and blow up with _them._"

**_Bomb_**? Jaime's mind reeled with the knowledge that she, too, was a target. They were armed; she wasn't, and she had no idea how she could get past a group of men with guns (and a bomb!) and get Oscar, Steve and herself out of there safely. The window? She could take Oscar down herself, but Jaime didn't know if Steve was in any shape to be able to jump.

A lightbulb went on inside her head, and - without thinking about it first - Jaime moved as noiselessly as possible to open the hidden panel inside Callahan's middle desk drawer. She gave a silent sigh of relief as her hand closed around the contents, even as terror threatened to overcome her, and she quietly removed the loaded gun. She was immediately engulfed with memories of gunshots...blood...men falling to the ground, but Jaime forced back her fear and moved firmly and calmly toward the closed door. She drew back one leg, preparing to kick the door with all her strength, but at the last second, her inner voice stopped her, and she aimed instead for one of the blind-covered windows.

The sudden, unexpected shattering glass created a small diversion and also spared Steve and Oscar, who were tied back-to-back and wedged tightly between the door and Oscar's heavy, solid-oak desk. The door, kicked in with bionic force, would've likely killed both of them instantly. The gunman who'd been standing next to the window went down, discharging his weapon wildly as he fell. One shot went through the ceiling, and another hit one of his cohorts who was reaching for Jaime, sending him down in a heap, as well. That left two, and Jaime bought a few precious seconds with the other item from Callahan's desk. She closed her eyes and tossed the tiny canister into the center of the room. The office instantly filled with thick, heavy clouds of harmless smoke, and as it billowed around them, Jaime got one quick glance at the two men who still held guns, trained in her direction. Forcing herself to stay 'in the moment' she fired two quick shots toward the floor, one in the direction of each of them. She was grateful that the smoke obscured the fact that she was trembling.

"Both of you - drop your weapons and get up against the wall," she demanded in a voice that was much steadier than Jaime herself felt at the moment. "My next shots won't miss." The smoke and the sound of gunshots pulled her with nearly irresistible force into a maelstrom of uncontrollable emotions and memories, but Steve's voice, in a near-silent whisper, drew her back and anchored her to reality.

"Jaime, Oscar's unconscious and I can't see. If you can, grab Oscar and go out the window, while you still can."

_And leave you here with these idiots...and a bomb?_ Jaime thought to herself. _Not a chance, Austin._ An unseen hand grabbed at her ankle, and Jaime fired blindly but accurately, hitting the offending hand, which released its grip. She assumed that since he was grabbing instead of shooting, he'd lost his weapon.

"If you can move, I want you against the wall, too," she ordered. "Do it _now!_" The smoke began to clear, and as Jaime moved toward the door - toward Oscar and Steve - out of the corner of her eye, she saw that one of the men was very slowly edging away from the wall. Staring beyond him, at the wall, rather than down the barrel of his gun, Jaime took aim and fired twice. The first shot hit his hand, sending the gun to the floor, and the second struck him in the kneecap. As he was going down, he turned toward the wall with his hands in plain sight, in an attitude of surrender.

"I have three more bullets and extremely good aim," Jaime said, filling her voice with menace. "Anyone else wanna be stupid?" Smiling with more satisfaction than anyone in the room realized, she began to untie Oscar and Steve.

- - - - - -


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"**_Jaime, stop!_**" Steve said urgently, as he felt her fingers work their way between the ropes. "_Don't move!_" Jaime froze, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief. "Let go of the rope, very slowly – carefully." Jaime obeyed, with a quizzical look Steve was unable to see. "One of the ropes triggers the bomb," he told her carefully.

Jaime turned angrily to the three men at the wall. "Which one?" she demanded. The one who hadn't actually been hit by a bullet turned around, his eyes blazing with insanity.

"Go to hell," he told her.

"Jaime," Steve began, very softly, "their plan is to destroy OSI Headquarters, along with three or four of its key people. They aren't -"

The man facing them laughed as he interrupted. "We aren't afraid to die right along with the three of you; better that, than go to prison and let you live." He lunged toward his gun, lying on the floor in front of him. Jaime, with split-second reflexes, took a shot at the gun, causing a small explosion that burned a hole in the floor and sent the potential attacker flying backward into the wall, his legs badly injured.

"Don't even _think _about getting up," Jaime told him. She gathered the other three weapons and placed them on top of the desk, within her own reach and out of theirs. This time, none of them dared to move.

Jaime moved quickly back to Steve and Oscar, just as Oscar began to stir. "Oscar," Jaime said, leaning toward her boss and friend and placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him still, "don't move. I'm gonna get you out, but you have to stay as still as possible." Oscar opened his eyes slowly, and nodded his understanding.

"Babe, you shouldn't have come here," he said sadly.

"Fire me later," she informed him. Suddenly, multiple rapid-fire gunshots filled the room, through the open outside window. Jaime hit the floor, directly next to where Steve sat.

"The SWAT team..." he groaned, knowing they'd been alerted by the gunshots and explosion and were about to storm the office, firing at everything that moved – and everything that didn't, as well. In a minute or less, he knew with sinking, gut-wrenching certainty, they'd all be killed. He longed to reach out and hold Jaime in his arms, but all he could do was touch her with his extended fingertips. "I love you..." they both whispered at exactly the same moment, their hearts reaching out in a way their arms could not. As suddenly as it had begun, the firestorm of bullets stopped and it seemed the entire world had gone silent.

"Stay down," Steve told Jaime. She'd ended up with half her body behind the desk, her head resting on Steve's legs. "Are you hurt?" he asked, dreading the answer. The past traumas she'd been struggling with, combined with what they'd just endured, had finally over-taken her, though, and Jaime was unable to respond. Steve could feel that she was shaking pitifully hard, so he knew she was alive, but his question had to go unanswered.

The cause of the abrupt cease-fire soon poked his head through the broken inner-office window. "Steve?...Jaime?" Rudy called tentatively.

"Over here," Steve answered. "Rudy, get the bomb squad."

"They're on the way up now; they heard that explosion."

"Is Jaime with you?" Mark Conrad asked from over Rudy's shoulder.

"She's right here, Mark, and she needs your help. You too, Rudy; she needs both of you."

- - - - - -

Oscar's sole injury was a concussion, and although he began demanding to go home before they'd even finished treating him, he finally agreed to staying for twenty-four hours of observation. Steve's eyes were flushed out, but it was the passage of several hours that finally restored his sight. The mist he'd inhaled had been designed to affect optic nerves and their receptors, rather than the actual eyeballs, which was why he'd lost vision in both eyes, instead of retaining sight in his left. There appeared to be no permanent damage, but Steve, too, was being hospitalized, for treatment of shock and for observation.

Jaime had refused to be transported to the hospital until Oscar and Steve had been safely freed from their bonds. She and Steve had ridden in the same ambulance, on a single stretcher, with Jaime firmly ensconced in Steve's arms, so in the interest of keeping Jaime in her bed, the decision was made to move a second bed into her room for Steve. He had a visible calming effect on Jaime, and each seemed to be made more comfortable by the mere presence of the other.

Jaime had sustained three separate bullet wounds to her legs, which had not been protected by the desk: one from a ricochet and two direct hits. Rudy had wheeled her directly into surgery, removing the bullets and repairing the damage in what proved to be a simple, uneventful operation. Later that morning, the two doctors – one who knew them well and one who was looking forward to getting to know them – stood in the hallway outside Jaime and Steve's hospital room.

"I've never seen anything like it," Conrad marveled. "She was completely catatonic, but is thrust – thrust _herself_, really – into a situation that mirrors her original trauma, and she _thrives_! She went from a model of the worst effects of PTSD to someone who faced a room full of loaded guns and saved three lives, including her own -"

"And I didn't have to kill anyone this time," Jaime added from her bed.

Mark's eyebrows rose in surprise; he hadn't realized she was awake. Rudy smiled, patting the younger doctor's back as they joined their patients. "Never forget that this amazing patient of yours also has exceptional hearing."

- - - - - -


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

"The fact that you were even able to hold a gun again, especially in a situation nearly identical to your trigger...it's unprecedented," Mark Conrad told Jaime when they began their session that evening. "I've never known anyone else who would've had the raw courage to pull that off."

"She's one of a kind," Steve added, from his bed across the room.

"You're _resting_, Austin," Jaime reminded him. "As in 'under the covers, eyes - and mouth - closed'." She giggled, and both Mark and Steve grinned at the unexpected sound. Jaime smiled, too, then turned serious. "It was really hard, but there was no decision to make. I just...did it."

"How did it feel," the doctor probed, "holding a gun again?"

"I was shaking...wanted to cry, but it wouldn't have helped."

"You must've been terrified."

"Wasn't time," Jaime answered in a matter-of-fact voice.

"How did you know to kick the window, instead of the door?" Mark asked.

Jaime shrugged. "Same way I knew Steve was in trouble in the first place: instinct, I guess."

"If I ever decide to study precognition and ESP, you'll be the first two people I call."

"I wouldn't be a good study patient for that, either."

"Why would you say that?" Conrad wondered. "You're living proof that ESP is real."

"She's too stubborn to be a research subject," Steve added, chuckling.

"He needs a sedative," Jaime told the doctor.

"Actually, Sweetheart, all I need...is you."

Jaime smiled. "There's your answer," she said to Conrad. "I don't have ESP. There's one thing stronger than medicine, science and research, all put together."

"A hard-headed woman?" Steve tossed back.

"You are **so **asking for it...!"

Steve shot her a wicked grin. "We're both in hospital beds right now, but maybe when we get home..."

"_Steve!_" Her face turned beet-red, but her eyes glowed happily. "Mark's gonna think we're some kind of over-sexed -"

"Maybe...if he was here."

Neither of them had noticed when the doctor had slipped quietly from the room, leaving them alone with their loving banter as he shared a laugh with Rudy, out in the hallway. "So that's what true love looks like - and sounds like?" Mark mused.

"The real deal," Rudy confirmed. "You could study those two for a lifetime, though, and never completely understand the bond they share."

Back in the hospital room, Jaime and Steve were both sitting up in their beds, enjoying and deepening that bond, without needing to say a word.

END


End file.
